


Blue Sunday

by Ro_Nordmann



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Grief/Mourning, PTSD Jaime Lannister, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Past Character Death, Past Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann
Summary: “It feels like it’s swallowing you whole, but you’re above ground, you’re alive, you’re a survivor.  This is not the end, it doesn’t have to be. Everyone in this place has faced it, death, pain, loss.  They are still standing and trying to find the spark of life. You don’t have to stay, but I don’t want you to leave.Stay. Stay with me.”And so it begins.





	Blue Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended

* * *

* * *

I don’t know why I even bother…the place was full of battered women and their forgotten children.The staff members aren’t enough with how many are need attention.

I look at the flyer again. 

I take deep breaths as my case worker recommended.It doesn’t do shit, but I do it anyway. My close for one second…

A beast of a woman bumps her elbow and disrupts my attempt at calm and justification for leaving.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

I hold my hand to stop her apologizing, as I stare at the most amazing eyes I’ve seen in my life. It those eyes that make answer her.

“I’m here for the meeting.”

She looks me up and down, but tries to cover up her mishap.I feel like she’s judging me and this wasn’t part of the deal. She goes for a grimace.

“It’s going to start in a few minutes, right through that door on your left…Are you waiting for someone?”

No, it’s me.I’m supposed to find meaning and purpose, and healing.Fuck this.

“I think I must have read the wrong flyer.Have good night, miss?”

Her arms are full of supplies and she drops them on a table. She turns to me and looks straight into my eyes, that might as well be staring into my wretched soul.

“I’m Brienne, sorry again for hitting you.I was trying to bring everything to the meeting room in one-go and it didn’t end well. As for being in the wrong place…I don’t think you are, mister?”

I smirk at her game, “Jaime, my name is Jaime. This is my first meeting and I feel like I’ll be in the way-“

Another staff person comes to her and she smiles to me, as she responds to her co-worker.

“BRI!!! The meeting is about to start, where’s Mom? She’s leading the first part and you’re going to the gathering circle.I’m going to have the refreshments ready and Arya is in charge of the hot coffee. Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting, sir.I’m Sansa, welcome toour center.Are you need of assistance?”

I cough at her nonstop talking, “Brienne was helping me, thank you, Sansa.”

She nods and moves to pick up the things left behind by Brienne. And enters the meeting room. My hands start to shake and I feel like bolting from this place.The women start moving from the different areas towards the meeting, and I start backtracking my steps, until a hand holds my forearm with so much gentleness I gasp.

“Whatever is holding you back, don’t let it. This is a safe place, no one here is going to judge you or hurt you more than you have been.”

I roll my eyes and scoff, “I don’t see many men rolling to this meeting.I’m out of place and some of these women are looking at me like frighten kittens ready to scratch my eyes out.No, this really was a mistake and I’ll be saying so to Podrick.What the fuck was he thinking-“

Her hand moves towards my left hand and holds in both of hers, moving closer, invading my space, as her eyes hold me captive, a clear blue, reminding me of that summer I swam in Shipbreaker Bay when visiting Storm’s End.

“It feels like it’s swallowing you whole, but you’re above ground, you’re alive, you’re a survivor.This is not the end, it doesn’t have to be. Everyone in this place has faced it, death, pain, loss.They are still standing and trying to find the spark of life. You don’t have to stay, but I don’t want you to leave.  _Stay_.  _Stay with me_.”

And so it begins.

* * *

“Good evening, Ms Stark.”

Catelyn Stark runs the center, somehow she finds sponsors that keep it running, with mostly people who volunteer and help out with so many families displaced by the recent war and the men who’ve abandoned them. She’s a survivor herself, having lost her husband and her eldest son to the war. 

In retrospect, I’ve only lost a part of myself and still complain.She just glares at my interruption and signals me to the right place. 

There’s she is my _Blue Sunday_. 

She smiling at a little girl that has a burn scar over half of her face, Shireen doesn’t let it stop her from making others learn to read, even if she’s only nine year old.Her father is awaiting trial for war crimes against civilians.Her mother committed suicide.She has no one.Only the Starks, who take anyone in need.

I turn my back and look around.I can see that Arya has found someone to stare, or more likely trying to get Gendry into the supply closet. I’ve caught more than once. 

“What’s got spying and smiling like a creepy old man?” 

Her hands come directly to touch my face, as her eyes assess my soul. She’s the only one that understand without words. 

Words are wind, turn to ash in my mouth, meaningless, vacant expressions of a past long gone. 

I can’t change it. 

I can’t save them.

No more than I can grow my right hand.

“Come, I want you to help me set the table and then we can go outside.It’s nice for a stroll and see Bran.He must be trying to win the contest of throwing rocks in the pond in front of the Weirwood tree. We can sit under it, I know you like to stare at the red leaves.”

I don’t say a word. I hold her hand and squeeze her fingers. It’s my acquiescence. 

* * *

The rustling of leaves calms me and I can believe that they are still living. 

My forbidden family.

Weeks of coming here, of knowing my Blue Sunday, don’t change what I am.She knows and somehow her heart can take it, and give something, a balm to my self-inflicting scourge.

Children are running around, I hear their laughter in the wind…I can see them in my mind’s eye. 

Tommen and Myrcella, our twins. 

Just like us.

The best of us.

I wasn’t there to protect them and I was punished.I deserve this pain.

Lips touch my eyelids and involuntarily I smile in midst of my grief. 

“My sisters were only babies. Why I don’t know.You can curse all you want, but it doesn’t bring them back.My bother’s accident was something that could have ended my life, but it didn’t.I decided to use that pain to live for him, to make him proud.My father has withered away, in his hopeless and I couldn’t save him without losing myself. I know you don’t like Renly, and what he meant to me, what’s past is in the past, just like yours…But he gave me purpose.He needed my help, to come out and tell the truth to his family against their disgust and anger.

I’ve met others and found that I can be the shoulder they can cry on, hold on to me.It makes feel like I matter in the end.That everything happens for a reason, that innocence is lost, but hope blooms even in the darkest hour.The Long Night can last so long, Jaime.She…was part of you, but you can’t let her take you with her. You need to let her go. Even if what your relationship with her was considered immoral, you loved her. You loved your children. You have suffered war, as a soldier, sacrificed your body and your integrity.In the end, no one considers you a hero, but I do, Jaime. You probably can’t comprehend the families, women and children that were saved by your disloyalty, the brutal slaying of your commanding officer.”

Tears are running down my face and I don’t care to brush them off. Only she can see them, and I’m not ashamed.She’s my rock and I’ve learned to love her, not for a beautiful face, that she doesn’t have, it goes deeper. 

She’s not Cersei, with golden curls and green starlight eyes, and womanly curves that tempted me since I was twelve years old.All of that was an illusion to condemn me to hell for decades…I’m an old man compare to my Blue Sunday, in her sapphire eyes I can be young again.

I see Brandon Stark in his wheelchair, starring at the crows, his eyes almost white.I know he suffers from convulsions as part of the aftereffects of his condition. He lives and his family love him.I did that, by killing General Aerys Targaryen.He may not be whole and I hope one day he can forgive me for my part.

I turn back to Brienne and she is simply waiting. I kiss her chastely, not in front of the children, her eyes say. _I love you. I love you. I love you_. I say with mine. One tear falls from the corner of her eye, as I brush over the scar left over on her cheek.She’s a survivor, too. We both have scars, inside and out. 

_ Oh Cers. _

_ You’re not my mirror anymore. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm back... sort of. I've been binge-reading JB since the S8 began and things turned into a clusterfuck of WTF, pardon my redundancy. It's part of the healing process the whole fandom has resorted to, and I've had this idea floating around and finally I decided to write something. Don't know if it means anything, but this is the point of fanfiction. Someone out there may find its meaning and enjoy.
> 
> I'd been on hiatus from fandom related matters since 2015, including my banner making. I've began to make them again. If anyone is interested, you can look me up on ronordann.tumblr.com.
> 
> This isn't a fix-it fic, there are too many and I'm confused myself with which is which half the time. I do want to try writing with a friend, but we are simply bouncing ideas at the moment. I wouldn't mind trying for an Evil!Bran in the mix, since I believe is an evil shit who manipulated everything in the end. There a few out there and and few that have a kind Bran that melts your heart. Yep, enough talking about fics. Let me know what you think of this one-shot. Title is from the song "Blue Sunday" by The Doors, which I love and I think is fitting for my little story.


End file.
